Demons Inside
by Inuyuke
Summary: "Everything special about you came out of a bottle." While truer words hadn't been spoken, and he was sure that Tony hadn't meant it, it still hurt. It was the one thing that kept crashing through the dark haze of his nightmares. Because, without the serum, who WAS he? Just a sickly kid from Brooklyn, that's all. He was nothing. Captain America was dead. Not Slash.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**:_ So this is a little something I've been toying with lately. I'm not sure If I'm going to continue it or not, I guess we'll see based on the amount of feedback I get from it._

_Soo..yeah. Enjoy._

_Cross posted from Archive Of Our Own_

**Disclaimed.**

* * *

Steve sat in the less-than-comfortable chair they provided, staring at the grain and trying to pick out a pattern. He didn't really feel like _sharing_ today, like they so wanted him to do.

"Captain Rogers." His therapist, an aging woman with a pleasant smile and trusting face walked in, sitting down across from him. "How are you this afternoon?"

"Fine," Steve replied automatically. In fact, he was _far_ from fine, but he didn't really want to tell a S.H.I.E.L.D. shrink that. For all he knew they reported every syllable he said directly to Fury and he didn't really want Fury knowing what went on in his mind.

"How are you coping after the loss of the last battle?"

Steve stiffened slightly, but a quick look over the doctor's face confirmed that she didn't catch it. He didn't really want to talk about the last battle right now. The fight had gone as well as could be, until the end. And then it had gone horribly wrong. It wasn't anything major—just some bots controlled by some guy who thought he was the next best thing. Honestly, Steve had already forgotten his name.

But the robots had put up a valiant fight, and despite their best efforts, a civilian was killed during the battle. It was the first person they'd lost since the Battle Of New York, and it was eating away at Steve inside.

He wasn't sure how much he could tell the doctor that, though, considering he was supposed to be immobile. These sessions were mostly just about him adapting to the 21st century after all. Though he supposed dealing with death was part of that.

And that in itself was bitter humor, considering everyone he'd known—or, almost everyone—was dead now. Peggy was alive, though she was back in England and he hadn't found the courage to give her a call yet. Dum Dum had died. Gabe, James, and Jacques had died too. Jim was alive, but in geriatric care at the Veteran's Hospital. He was pretty sure Jim's heart wouldn't be able to take seeing him again, especially since he hadn't aged a day.

"I'm coping," Steve said quietly, bringing his eyes up from the desk to look at the doctor. "It's hard, it's hard on all of us, but we're all getting through it." They were all coping with it in their own ways.

Tony, now that he had no choice but to live in New York at the Tower since his Malibu home had been destroyed, had come home and literally picked Pepper up. He tossed her over his shoulder and retreated to their floor of the Tower, and disabled access to that floor. The two of them hadn't been out for a few days now.

Natasha had an impenetrable mask that no one except for maybe Clint could read through. She very rarely let things like this get to her. She was an assassin after all, and knew better than most of them that casualties had to happen. Clint was much the same as Natasha, and Steve knew that the two of them would help each other cope. He didn't want to think too much further into that.

Bruce and Thor hadn't been there. The Hulk was something they left for emergencies. He usually worked behind the scenes, tapping into satellite surveillance and warning them when something was coming they couldn't see. Thor hadn't been back to Earth since the attack at New York, no matter how frustrating it was for the S.H.I.E.L.D. superiors who wanted to contact him.

And Steve… Well, Steve was a soldier. Loss was something he had to understand. Something that went hand in hand with his job. "We'll be fine." He eventually said, making sure to give the doctor a calm smile.

They would be fine. Eventually.

* * *

"Well well well, look who finally decided to join us!" Clint was perched on top of a bookshelf when Steve came down from his room. "Been a while, Spangle pants."

Tony laughed and Steve couldn't help but crack a smile. Jokes about his uniform were quite common, and he'd long since learned to not let them bother him. Sitting down at the table, he grabbed a croissant from the middle. "What's the story, Capsicle?" Tony asked, leaning forward and eyeing him. "You're usually up crack of dawn."

It was true that Steve had overslept today, but he really didn't find it note worthy. Obviously, the others did, and he shook his head. "Late night."

"You went to bed at like, eight. How is that late?"

Steve backpedaled, shrugging to try to dispel the panic he was feeling starting to grow. "I—wasn't able to sleep. I was up most of the night. Insomnia or something." Steve didn't miss the way Tony sat back, giving him a critical look, but he thought nothing of it. The man was always jumping to conclusions, and most of them were _really_ farfetched.

The silence dragged on, Steve ate his croissant and contemplated bolting. Anything to get away from the stares and oppressive silence of his team mates. Clint and Natasha sipped their coffees from their respective seats—Natasha sat like a human at the table while Clint surveyed the room from his perch—and Tony didn't let his eyes wander from Steve's face for a long time. Bruce sat in silence, reading the paper and eating his plate of fruits.

Finally the billionaire sighed and leaned forward. "Right. Now that most of us are here." He dug into his pocket, fishing out a small box and opening it, letting it slide to the table. Steve leaned forward and saw it was a ring box. "I have an announcement."

"What, you're going to propose to the whole team?" Bruce asked from behind his paper and Tony smirked, shaking his head.

"I'm already married to my work, sorry I can't two time it. No— this," He smiled and Steve noticed genuine happiness in his eyes. Happiness and nerves. "I'm going to propose to Pepper. You guys think this is a good idea?"

Natasha shrugged, "Pepper and I aren't exactly friends." The two red heads hadn't gotten over their differences from when Natasha was sent to spy on Tony during the whole Justin Hammer incident. Pepper didn't trust Natasha and Natasha didn't really blame her. Tony had gotten over it pretty quickly, but the master spy assumed that was just because he liked the way she looked. "So I don't have any input."

"I think it's a good idea," Bruce said, looking over to the ring and nodding at what he saw. It was a pretty thing, though he wasn't sure about what Pepper did or didn't like. The band was white gold, with gems in the center set to look like the original arc reactor that Tony had had in his chest. "But isn't that…more your taste than hers?"

"Nah, she loved that one. Remember? "Actual Proof That Tony Stark Has A Heart." Saved my life with that one, I think it's sentimental."

Truth was everyone at the table knew that Pepper would love it. Sure it was another reminder of just how selfish Tony actually was, but she was used to it. And she really did find the glow of his reactor comforting. "So I'm kind of… you know, giving her my heart by doing this."

No one could really argue that.

* * *

"Another."

"Where are you putting all of these, buddy?"

"Just—just give me another."

The bartender gave him a worried look before doing as he asked. He wasn't sure where this guy was stashing it all, but somehow he didn't even seem remotely drunk. It was odd, considering the man had racked up a couple thousand dollars on his tab tonight. But he made him another drink, sliding it in front of him. He knew he should have told him he was cut off long ago, but the man didn't seem to be suffering any sort of repercussions from it.

Steven Rogers took the glass and stared at it for a long moment, internally debating on savoring this one or just chugging it. Is this what he was reduced to? Is this what happened when heroes fell? He brought the glass to his lips, taking a sip. He was just like Tony. Drowning his problems in the drink. How ironic.

If only he could be like Tony and just _get drunk_.

"I thought I'd find you here." Speak of the devil.

"Go away, Tony." Steve growled, fingers clenching around the glass. He was careful though, making sure he didn't break the glass. Around him people gasped at seeing Tony Stark. Though he wasn't an uncommon frequenter at bars, he'd been better since getting together with Pepper. Besides, he was a long way away from his home in Malibu.

"Come on Cap, I'm in New York and you're holing yourself up in a bar?" Steve could _hear_ the smirk in Tony's voice and wanted to turn around and punch him out. He just wanted to be _alone_. "You should be at the Tower with the rest of us, Steve." Tony's voice was lower now, and he pulled up a stool, sitting next to Steve. "We were going to celebrate."

"Celebrate what?" Steve glanced at him briefly. He knew exactly what they wanted to celebrate. They wanted to celebrate Tony and Pepper's engagement. They wanted to celebrate the one year anniversary of the attack on New York. They wanted to be together, on the rare occasion everyone had time off. And Steve wanted to be nowhere but a bar.

"You know damn well what." Steve brought his glass to his lips, chugging the stinging liquid easily. Tony sighed and drummed his fingers on the counter and Steve raised his empty glass, signaling the bar tender.

"Another?" The man asked, his eyebrows lowered with concern and probably a little bit of surprise. The arrival of Tony Stark had him putting two and two together. The man sitting before him was Captain America, and he spent his night in a _bar_.

"No, he doesn't need any more." Tony fished into his pocket, grabbing his wallet and throwing his credit card at the man. "Charge me, I'm taking him home."

"Tony you don't have to—"

"Don't have to _what_, Steve? Pay for the thousands of dollars you've spent here? Yeah I kind of _do_ have to." Tony lost the calm exterior he'd painted on. After all, the man only had so much patience, especially since he was in a bar. He was a recovering alcoholic, not a God. He wanted to get out of here as fast as possible. "If you hadn't noticed, I'm a billionaire, and you…well, you're on S.H.I.E.L.D. salary—or you were, last time I looked."

Tony raised a finger to stop Steve from saying anything, choosing instead to continue. "You don't _have_ the kind of money you're forking out. I know. I looked into it. And before you get all huffy about your "rights" as an America Citizen, just let me remind you: _I don't care._"

Steve stood up with a huff and Tony followed suit. He grabbed his card back from the bar tender and followed the irate Captain out. "Where you going to go, Capsicle? I took your bike!" He'd taken every measure possible to get Steve back to the Tower. The team was concerned about their leader. They'd noticed his odd behavior, and while Tony hadn't been their first choice, they figured he'd be the only one blunt enough to get through to the Captain.

"Come home, Steve." Tony's voice was quiet now, and Steve stopped walking. He hadn't missed the pleading note in Tony's voice, and it gave him pause. Tony _never_ begged.

"I don't want to go home yet, Tony." Steve muttered quietly, and the billionaire shook his head. "Doesn't matter, I'm _bringing_ you home."

Steve sighed, shaking his head. He knew Tony couldn't do anything to him without Steve letting him. After all, Steve could just run and Tony would never be able to keep up. But if Tony, the world's biggest asshole, was willing to come out here and be concerned about him, he might as well go ahead and go home. Doesn't mean he has to talk.

So Steve let Tony lead him into the limousine. He sat in a seat and tried not to eye the minibar that was in it. Tony, for his part, ignored the bar and instead concentrated on Steve. "You wanna tell me what's going on?"

Steve took this time to study Tony. The man who, by all rights, should be in a psychiatric ward, was asking him to open up. Tony Stark rarely wanted to know what went on in other people's heads. He had enough to worry about on his own without adding someone else's troubles to it. He didn't know that Tony had been the first one to spot something wrong with Steve. He didn't know that he'd sat the rest of the team down and asked them about it. He didn't know that they'd been keeping tabs on him for a while now. And he didn't _want_ to know.

"There's nothing going on. I was out for a drink."

"Right," Tony leaned forward, clasping his hands together lightly in front of him and studying the man out of time critically. "So if I were to bring up my credit card statement, right here, right now, the charge on it from that bar would only be ten fifty."

Steve stared at him and didn't try to question how Tony knew how much that one drink was. Being a recovering alcoholic, Tony obviously knew. "Well… no. And I'll pay you back."

"That's not the issue." Tony opened his home to the Avengers and supplied everything they needed. The team didn't have to pay for anything unless they wanted to, and the man never complained. He might be selfish in a lot of things, but Tony also had a big heart. Money was one thing Tony had in surplus, and he never let them forget it. "I want to know what's happening, Steve. Something's going on. Something you're not telling us."

The super soldier shifted in his seat, finding the closed space confining. "There's nothing going on. Or at least nothing that S.H.I.E.L.D. can't help me with."

"Right, because your bi-weekly therapy sessions are going to do you a ton of good." Tony grumbled to himself. "It's trouble adjusting, right? To this century?"

"Something like that," Steve dodged the question, staring out the window. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

"_Everything special about you came out of a bottle._"

Steve sat up in bed later that night with a panicked gasp. He sat in his darkened room, staring at the far wall as his chest heaved and his heart slammed against his ribs. The words continued to ring in his ears and he had a hard time shutting out the images form his dream.

The war. It was always the war. But Tony's voice always seemed to worm its way in. It always seemed to be there, making everything worse. It was always reminding him that he was nothing more than a show pony for the US army.

He never should have been anything.

Steve sighed, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and forcing himself to his feet.

"_I'm starting to think they should have kept him on ice,_"

He hadn't been meant to hear those words, but he'd been going over security footage with Agent Hill later and he'd heard them. They plagued him know, because he knew it was true. If they hadn't found him—

_New York would be destroyed, _ a small part of his mind whispered as he got dressed. _You were a big help—_a help? He had a shield. That was it, he did _nothing_.

Steve glanced at the shield in question. It hung proudly over his bed, ready at a moment's notice to plunge into battle. Steve didn't know if he'd ever take it out against an enemy again. But, here he was, taking it off the wall.

He should just leave.

_Get out_. Damn the internal voices.

Tony had found him last time he'd gotten out. But he sure as hell wasn't going make that mistake again. If he got on that bike, he wasn't ever stopping.

It took him a few moments to make his decision. He grabbed his suitcase, shoving in a few pairs of clothes into it, grabbing his wallet and shoving it in his pocket. He gave his shield a once over, fingers carefully running over the details.

_You're deserting your duties_. A voice whispered in the back of his mind. Steve put the shield on his bed, looking down at it sadly. _You jumped at the chance to join the army—why are you leaving now?_

They didn't need him. Not now. Not ever, really. Everyone else was so much—better than he was. They all had something to offer the team and even the _world_.

No one even remembered who he was anymore.

So let them think of him as a coward. Sure, at one time he'd told Peggy that he wouldn't run away from a fight, but that was over seventy years ago.

Peggy wasn't in the picture and Steve couldn't care less right now.

He was an old man and a young adult bundled into one. Technically speaking, he was over ninety years old, but in his mind and heart he was only twenty one. Barely legal and hardly able to tell what's a bomb and what's a common house hold appliance.

Steve sighed and tossed his suitcase over his shoulder, turning his back on what he'd always found peace in.

_There is no war. _He stepped out of his apartment in the Tower, and stepped into the elevator.

_I'm not a soldier, I'm a figure head. _Even during the Battle of New York he'd been used as more of a commander than anything. He was just wanted for strategy. Not because they liked him. Or because they needed him.

_They don't need me. They've never needed me._

So he was going to leave. Tony would make a good leader, anyway. He pretended like he wouldn't be, but he was. He just needed a shove. Steve hoped that this would be his shove.

Steve pressed the button in the elevator that would take him to the garage. Stepping out once the elevator landed, he let himself be impressed by Tony's collection of cars. The man really did have a thing for them.

Shaking his head with a small smile, he went over to his motorcycle that he'd bought. He'd saved up for it and gotten it himself, once he'd thawed. Bikes always made him feel like he was back home. Taking the dust cover off, he stored it carefully in the little storage area under the seat and got on.

The Captain revved the engine and drove out of the garage. He paused when he got to the end of the drive way, turning back to look at the Tower he was leaving behind, before shaking his head.

_It's better this way._

And with that he merged into traffic and took off.

* * *

"Sir, Captain Rogers has left the Tower."

Tony sat back in his chair, frowning at the blueprints laid out before him. "I wonder where he's gone this time… Thanks, J." Tony rubbed his eyes with one hand, grumbling to himself about Steve and his new erratic habits.

The Captain was as easy to figure out as Barton and Romanov were. Or he had become that way, lately. And it bothered Tony to no end. The billionaire prided himself on his knowledge of his team mates, and it bugged him that he couldn't figure Steve out.

Typing in a few commands to his computer, Tony checked Steve's recent spending habits. Nothing out of the ordinary.

"So what's put ants in your pants, Steve-O?" Tony asked the empty lab, wondering just what he could do. "And what can we do to help you?"


	2. Chapter 2

It had been three weeks since anyone had heard from Steve.

Tony was worried, but he wouldn't let the others know it. He had a reputation to keep, after all. So he hung back, scouting any cameras that hooked up to a satellite, trying to see if he could find any trace of Steve.

Nothing.

"_Avengers Assemble_." The words rang through J.A.R.V.I.S.' speakers and Tony grit his teeth. He'd have to up the firewall. He didn't want to be called to S.H.I.E.L.D. right now. They had much more important things to do. Like finding Steve. Pepper rolled over, slinging one arm around his waist.

"Don't go…" He heard her murmur, and he sighed deeply. He didn't want to. But S.H.I.E.L.D. had been quiet lately. For the last month or so they'd only had to take care of petty villains. Nothing huge, and Tony had been considering telling S.H.E.I.L.D. to send the tasks to the other guys. Surely the X-Men wanted some action? Why did the Avengers have to have every little task?

"I have to, babe." Tony gently peeled her arms off of him, rolling out of the bed. He was the last person to ever voluntarily get out of bed, especially when that bed involved Pepper. She didn't protest, she was probably still exhausted from last night. He figured she was already asleep, and he stretched, popping his spine to get the stiffness out.

He might've been summoned, but he definitely didn't want to go running to them like a bored puppy. He yawned, sleepily climbing into the shower and washing off the dried sweat that caked his skin. He took his time, but finally arrived in the meeting room where a very Maria Hill sat where Fury was supposed to be.

Tony raised a brow at that. "Where's Fury?" He asked, grabbing a chair and spinning it around before plopping himself down. The rest of his team—sans Captain America—gave him a little look before turning back to Agent Hill

"Director Fury has been temporarily reassigned. I'll be—"

"Woah! Woah hold on there, sweetheart. Reassigned? _Fury_? Hell to the no." Tony spat, leaning forward. "If Fury's not here, we ain't taking orders from you."

"Tony," Natasha's voice was cool as she looked over at him. She was a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and probably knew all the tricks. "Let her speak. There's a reason Fury's not here."

"Oh?" Tony asked, looking over at her. He wasn't stupid enough to directly challenger her—not without the suit, at least. But he was stupid enough to argue a point. "I'm sure you know it then. Pray tell, little Spider. What's Fury up to?"

Clint sighed, shaking his head as Natasha rolled her eyes. "I don't _know_, Stark. That's why we're here."

"Actually…" Agent Hill piped up, but was quickly silenced by Tony raising a finger.

"Ah ah ah! No talkie." Tony didn't want to listen to her, and Hill seemed genuinely frustrated. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Tony was grinning in satisfaction. Outwardly, he showed nothing but the slightest hint of annoyance. "Only the big boys—and girl, can talk right now, kay? Kay."

This outburst prompted and angry rebuttal from Natasha, who apparently didn't like it when Tony treated her fellow agents the way he was. Finally, Bruce had to raise his voice to get everyone to quiet down, and smiled a little to himself when it actually worked. Maybe being the biggest wildcard was a plus.

"Let her talk." Bruce's voice was back to its normal, quiet level, and he leaned back a little in his chair, watching them through his thick glasses. "And then when we're out, and at home, we can argue there."

Tony looked like he wanted to say something else, but Bruce cut him off again. With an angry huff, the billionaire, crossed his arms and glared at Agent Hill. "Alright. Talk."

"Alright…" She looked more than a little annoyed now. "As I was saying. Director Fury has been temporarily reassigned, but for how long we're not sure. It was at the Council's discretion." She flipped through a file folder she had, passing out papers to each of them and frowning when she came to Steve's empty spot. "I'll be your new Director for the time being."

She paused, letting them all look over the papers she'd given them, before continuing. "I called you here to tell you that, and because I want to know…" Hill leaned forward a little, looking at them all. "Does anyone know where Captain Rogers has gone?"

The silence in the room was oppressive, and they all turned to Tony. He licked his lips, trying to come up with something feasible. "I've been trying to find him," he settled for, rubbing his forehead tiredly. "But the man appears to have dropped off the face of the earth. Again."

Hill sat back with a sigh. "I was afraid of that. We've got S.H.I.E.L.D. looking for him, but it's not looking promising." Steve knew how to vanish, and that didn't sit well with Tony or the team. He could see the other Avengers were just as uneasy, but they were trying not to show it. Really if anyone was going to find Captain America, it would be Tony. Though S.H.I.E.L.D. was a close second, and Tony took it as a challenge. He wasn't going to let S.H.I.E.L.D. win the hunt.

There was a pause as each member lost themselves to their thoughts

"We'll find him." Natasha spoke finally, looking up and locking eyes with Maria. Maria nodded.

"Thank you, Agent Romanov. Until then, you're leader." There was the beginnings of a protest from Tony, but Maria's glare quickly cut him off. "When we find Captain Rogers, you may still be leader—abandoning the team is not something that should be rewarded. Rogers may be removed from duty."

"Removed from…" Tony repeated, uncomprehending. "You can't just—you cant _remove_ Captain _fucking_ America from the Avengers! That's like—that's like removing the Statue of Liberty from New York!"

Maria sighed deeply. "The Council has to decide what to do. If Captain America is too unstable for the Avengers, he will be removed from duty."

Tony sat back. For now, he wouldn't say anything. But this was so fucking unfair. He rubbed his forehead as Maria continued to spew out useless information. The Council had decided to remove Fury from his position. The Council was thinking about taking _Captain America_ off the team. What else was the Council going to do?

Biting the inside of his lip, Tony decided one thing. He had never before been a stickler for rules or authority figures, so why was he going to start now?

Screw the Council.

After the meeting, safely back at home, Tony confessed this to Pepper. He was upping J.A.R.V.I.S.' security walls, making sure that while they could still be called to Assemble, there would be no way for S.H.I.E.L.D. to use his system against him.

He was getting paranoid, and he knew it, but _damn it_, something was wrong.

"And they don't want Steve on the team anymore," Tony finished telling her sitting on one of the couches in the penthouse of the Tower, typing a few more commands into his laptop. His fingers were moving faster than they ever had before, with an urgency he hadn't felt since New York. "And I just don't understand it, _why_. Why Captain America—sure the guy's had a break down and is probably halfway around the world sipping piña coladas with some foreign babe… you know what, Pep. Schedule me a vacation to Puerto Rico; that sounds lovely."

He could practically _hear_ Pepper rolling her eyes. "Alright, but seriously, just because Steve's had some sort of break down doesn't mean we kick him off the team. If anything, we get him help, we get him back _on_ the team." Saving the changes to J.A.R.V.I.S.' programming, he half smirked when the walls made a little beep to confirm the changes.

Pepper shifted in her seat next to him, and he grabbed her legs, bringing them up to rest on his lap under the laptop. Stroking her calve, he smiled over at her. "It sounds to me like something's up with S.H.E.I.L.D." She mentioned quietly. Pepper wasn't supposed to know any of this. Everyone knew that, but everyone also knew that Tony couldn't exactly keep it quiet. To have Pepper know, instead of the public at large, was a small compromise that the Council was willing to overlook.

"That's what I've been saying!" Tony confirmed, putting the laptop down on a footstool so it could run the updates without interruption. "And I want to know _why_. What did Fury do that pissed them off so much that he was taken off the Avengers initiative? I mean, you don't mess with a big bald guy, Pep, you just don't. He could be—I don't know, what's scarier than a master spy?"

Pepper shrugged, using one arm as a pillow as she leaned her head against the side of the couch. She knew that in these situations the best thing to do is let Tony talk himself out. "I mean, really. And then to put _Maria_ _Hill_ in charge of us? That's like—that's like using a twelve year old to babysit your eleven year old. You just don't do it."

Tony sighed, rubbing up Pepper's leg to her thigh, almost unaware of his actions. "But really, I need to know where Steve is before I can tackle the issues surrounding S.H.I.E.L.D." He wouldn't admit that he missed the Star Spangled Man With A Plan, but he did miss how whole the team felt with Steve here.

"And I can't trust the other Avengers—well, I can probably trust Bruce, but I can't trust Natasha or bird brain, not that I ever trusted them, mind you, but now more than ever. They're S.H.I.E.L.D. agents first and Avengers second." He didn't really know if he believed that, but it was just one more excuse for his paranoia. "I'll have to build more suits—Pep, let's go back to Malibu, okay?"

Pepper watched him carefully. She removed her legs from his lap and crawled over so she was cuddled up next to him. "Whatever you want to do, Tony," She said to him. "I have to go back to Malibu next week anyways, because Stark Industries Headquarters needs me."

"Then it's settled! We leave for Malibu in the morning!"

If Pepper knew he wanted to go back so he could be closer to his vast collection of suits, she didn't say anything. And Tony was thankful for that.

* * *

Sometimes things just didn't go your way. Sometimes, life decided that everything that _could_ go wrong, _would_ go wrong. And so far, that had been exactly what had happened.

Prison hadn't been _that_ bad, if he was honest with himself. Sure there were the big tough guys who liked to wail on the little newbies, but given who he was—added to the fact that he could probably build a semi-functioning explosive from very little material (Not as good as Tony Stark, mind you, but not bad.), they left him alone for the most part. He was happy with that. He got his own little cell, his own little T.V. and people let him do his thing.

That was fine. That was good.

Given the fact that he was set for 10 years in prison, unless someone could come up with $750,000 for his bail, he was going to make himself comfy.

And really, he was content being in prison, mostly because he could build up his plot of revenge against Tony Stark and his little bitch.

The bitch who put him in prison in the first place—ooh, she was going to _pay_. But for now, he had several ideas for what he was going to do to her—none of them legal, and more than one of them resulted in his personal pleasure and her humiliation. By the time he got out of here, he would be well into his mid-fifties. Still young enough to do what he needed to do. And that was fine.

He just needed two arms to kill her, after all.

Funny, how a prison changes you.

And then, one day, a few years into his sentence, someone paid his bail. He had no idea who it was, but he didn't really care. He just knew that he was free.

Stepping outside of the prison, he smiled up at the sun.

There was a car waiting for him just outside the prison gates, and he gratefully stepped into it. He was already thinking of ways to get his money back—ways to make sure that Pepper Potts paid. He was going to make sure that nothing was ever the same for Stark Industries again.

And he knew exactly how he was going to do it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes: **I'm not sure if I've established this before but this is after _Avengers_ and before _Iron Man 3_. Due to the… mixed feelings I have about IM3, I'm going to pretend it never happened, but I _will_ be borrowing some things from it.

Usually I post a chapter here after I've written the next one already, but I'm not sure when that will be. I'm in no way abandoning this story, I'm just trying to get all my thoughts to settle and let me figure out what direction to put them in.

Besides, I usually update the version on Archive Of Our Own faster than here, but I don't get as much feedback from there, and I'd really like to hear your thoughts on this story so far! So any_ **reviews** _would be much appreciated!

(Also, I'm sorry if this appears in your inbox twice. I accidentally uploaded the chapter before I'd finished editing...oopse!)

* * *

Pepper was shaking. Tony didn't know why, but when she came into his lab he was immediately alerted to the _wrongness_ of the situation. Pepper _never_ got shaken up. Pepper was—well, Pepper. She rarely let her emotions get over her like this. And it was unnerving. She melted into his arms like butter on toast, and he held her to him, stroking her soft hair and making calming noises in his throat.

But when she made a little hiccupping noise against his chest that Tony knew meant she was _crying_, well, that was when he snapped. "J.A.R.V.I.S., put the lab in total lockdown. I want all the windows tinted, I don't want anyone else coming in—or seeing in. Cut off communication to the lab, too."

"Right away, sir." J.A.R.V.I.S. was always so chipper. Tony made a mental note to fix that. But for now he concentrated on the wonderful but distressed woman in his arms.

"Hey…hey, Pepper, no tears…" He pulled her back a little, but she quickly snapped back to his chest. Sighing, he let her stay there, stroking her hair as he guided her over to the small lounge. He sat them both down on one of the couches, and she almost crawled into his lap. He rubbed small, tight circles on her back, humming comfortingly.

It took a little while, but she finally calmed down. She pulled back, grabbing a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbing at her face before frowning at his shirt. He gave a little shrug, showing he didn't care while she just shook her head. He figured she was glad he was in the lab and not in a suit—business or other.

"Now, how about you tell me what's going on?" Tony asked quietly, reaching over and brushing a stray tear off of her cheek.

Pepper hiccupped once again before nodding. She pulled a folded piece of paper out of one of her pockets. "This…was in the newspaper today."

Tony had been in his lab all night; he hadn't had time to look at the day's news. Carefully, he took the paper, opening it and reading the words.

He had to read them twice before they finally sunk in.

_**Justin Hammer released from prison.**_

_The man accused of the terrorist attacks at the 2008 Stark Expo has been released from prison._

_His bail of $750,000 was paid in full, and the man has pledged to change his ways._

_A heavy police presence was reported to have escorted him home…_

Tony stopped reading and looked up at Pepper. She had her eyes down and she was picking at a loose thread from the seam of the couch cushion. "Oh Pep…"

She lifted her eyes, locking them onto his, and he could see the fear there. His heart broke, and he reached forward, pulling her into his arms.

He might not have been present, but Pepper had told him all about it, all about Justin's pledge to return. He had it out for her and Natasha, and though he knew Natasha wouldn't let him anywhere near them, he wasn't so sure about what would happen if Pepper were alone. He vowed to himself that nothing would happen to Pepper. He couldn't let it.

Tony settled Pepper, giving her strict orders to stay in the tower. She finally composed herself and went to the kitchenette, using the water to wash the tears from her face. Tony watched her before setting his jaw and unlocking the lab. "I'm going to go talk to the team—specifically Natasha," Tony informed her as he went to the door. "Stay down here until you're ready to come up."

She nodded, though she didn't look at him and Tony took the stairs two at a time.

His feet had barely connected with the landing when Natasha had grabbed his arm, pulling him away from the stair case. "Did you see?" She demanded.

"I did, and frankly I'm surprised with you, Romanov." That gave her pause and she raised her eyebrow a little. Tony gave her a half smirk and a little shrug. "I would have thought you would have squashed that bug dead in his cell a long time ago."

She snorted and let him go with a small shove. "I was busy. I was shipped to Russia almost as soon as I was done with you, and then from there I was called back _here_ for—you know."

Tony nodded, bringing his hand up and tapping a staccato on his arc reactor casing as a way to calm his nerves. He _did_ know, and that was the problem. The Battle of New York had distracted them all.

"Look, Pepper's in no danger." Natasha said with a wave of her hand. "For one, she's one of the most well protected women alive, and for another, she's got two super spies, a green rage monster, a _god_, and a man in a titanium suit looking out for her. That's not to mention every day body guards and security."

That still didn't put Tony at ease. He didn't want Pepper in any danger at _all_, and the fact that he might not be able to protect her was going to drive him insane. He shook his head, she was living in a home full of super heroes. She would be _fine_.

"So what're we going to do?" He asked quietly, and Natasha let out a small sigh.

"Well, _I'm_ going to track him down." She replied, cracking her knuckles. "I'm not going to let him escape me again. I don't have an identity to protect this time."

Tony nodded. "But that's not enough. Who _paid_ Hammer's bail? Who wanted him out?"

"S.H.I.E.L.D. will find out, I promise." Natasha said, but that only left a sour taste in Tony's mouth. He didn't trust S.H.I.E.L.D.

"Alright…" He relented, if only to get Natasha off his back. He could tell she knew he wasn't too happy, but he wasn't going to say anything. "I'm going to do my own investigation. I want to have some words with my _old friend_."

Natasha nodded, stepping back and leaving Tony alone. She would do what she wanted, and perhaps she'd find Hammer first, but Tony was determined to get his own say in it. _No one_ threatened his Pepper.

* * *

Six weeks. He'd run away six weeks ago. No—he hadn't run away… this… was for the best. This _was_ protecting his country. Or at least, that's how he rationalized it.

Here he could get a grasp on his mind. Here he could fight the nightmares without fighting other battles. Here he was free to do what he wanted. Even if S.H.I.E.L.D. still knew where he was (unlikely, considering they hadn't come for him yet) he was still able to take a few deep breaths. It was a change he needed.

Not being there, where everything was different, where everything was overwhelming, was best. Being here, in the open air and the _change_, was for the best. No one would really miss him, after all. They didn't need him.

Once he was ready, he would return to America.

Steve let the newspaper he was reading lower down slightly. He looked across the busy street, glancing at the door to a small house. The house was built on the edge of a small market, and he thought it was fitting. He wanted to go over and knock on the door, see who lived inside, even though he knew.

Peggy lived in there.

It had been seventy years since he'd seen her. He felt his heart throbbing in his throat, emotions rolling in his mind. He'd made it all the way here, to England to see her. But he'd wasted his time humming and hawing over a gift, and then over his own nightmares and illusions. Peggy wouldn't want to see him now.

Once The Battle of New York had ended, and cleanup had been well underway, he'd received a letter from her.

He hadn't opened it.

Call him a coward—he couldn't deal with it. It was too much for him to handle. So he'd tossed it in the trash, and forgotten about it. Until now. He regretted not opening it, but it wasn't like he had any ties to her anymore. He'd hoped she would have died old age, at least then he wouldn't be disappointing her time and again.

"You've been staring at that house for a long time now."

Steve started, turning around and looking at the woman who had suddenly appeared beside him. "I'm sorry?"

"Well, you have." She said. She turned her own gaze onto the house, looking it over. A small smile graced her face. "That's my aunt's house. My name's Sharon."

Steve smiled and shook the hand Sharon offered. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Sharon. I'm Steve."

Sharon gave him a smile. "It's nice to meet you, Steve. Is there a reason why you're staring at the house?"

Steve contemplated lying to her, but looking into her eyes he had a feeling she had an internal lie detector. "I… was told an old family friend lived here. I wanted to go say hi, but I'm scared she won't remember me."

Sharon nodded, picking up the grocery bags she'd set down when shaking Steve's hand before turning and walking across the street. She motioned for Steve to follow. "Oh, she will. Trust me, she remembers _everyone_. She's such a social butterfly."

_That's something else I'm afraid of._ Steve thought to himself as he followed Sharon across the street.

"Aunt Peggy? I brought your groceries!" Sharon called into the house as she opened the door. "And an old friend!"

* * *

"_WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE'S GONE!?_"

Bruce took a step back, his hands raised to calm Tony down. "Tony—Relax …"

"_RELAX!?"_ Tony screamed, grabbing a chair and tossing it across the room. Maria raised an eyebrow calmly watching the situation. "_PEPPER'S BEEN KIDNAPPED AND YOU WANT ME TO RELAX?!_"

"Stark, sit down."

"No. Ooohh no, you don't get to tell me what to do _Agent Hill_. You're not fucking Fury, you're not Steve Fucking Rogers, I don't _have to listen to you._" From the corner of his eye he saw Clint reach for something in his pocket, but Tony was much too furious to stop and figure out what it was. Or care, for that matter.

They'd been given the cue to assemble and they'd arrived in ample time. Pepper was in Los Angeles for a business meeting, and Tony had stayed behind in New York. He wished he hadn't. Now not only was baldy gone, he was being replaced by Hill, who was telling him that his Pepper—the one they _specifically said_ they were watching and protecting, is gone.

"It was an inside job—" Maria started, blinking when Natasha slapped a hand to her face, and Clint cringed.

"_AN INSIDE JOB!?"_ Tony's rage exploded over again and he stalked up to her. "What the _fuck_ are you S.H.I.E.L.D. agents _doing!?_ _How_ do you let someone through your security and _take my Pepper!?_"

Clint, Bruce and Natasha exchanged a look before Bruce gave a small nod. Clint returned it before calmly walking over to Tony. The man, who was still screaming at Agent Hill, didn't notice until Clint had shoved a dart into the side of his neck.

"What the Hell—" The billionaire pulled the dart out and turned around to glare at them. "The Hell did you just…"

Clint gave him a little grin and Tony collapsed. Clint caught him before he could hit the ground and Maria took a breath. "He's going to be _so_ angry when he wakes up," Clint mused before grinning up at Maria. "But at least he'll be at home."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Natasha piped up, coming over . "At home he's got access to his suits. We'd probably be in danger."

"We'll keep him here." Agent Hill said, folding her arms in front of her chest. "He's unstable. The agents who betrayed us are already in our custody undergoing questioning. I'm sure we can get some useful information from them before Tony wakes up."

Clint nodded and Maria paged some agents to come in and take Tony to the medical bay. "I'm sure we can get him under control…"

They couldn't.

Three hours after Tony went under, he was up again and, though the team couldn't figure out how he did it, he was in a suit and flying back home. "J.A.R.V.I.S. I want all security camera footage from a fifty foot radius around Pepper's last known location."

"Right away, sir." His faithful AI responded in his smooth accent. Tony bit his lip in worry as he flew home. How could someone get Pepper?

He felt betrayed. He felt hurt and betrayed by S.H.I.E.L.D. and knew he shouldn't have trusted them in the first place. Pepper had won him over by befriending Phil. That had been his first mistake, letting Pepper get that close to _any_ government agent.

Once he was home, he didn't even bother taking off his suit. He flipped up the face plate and watched J.A.R.V.I.S. playing back the video footage. His heart jumped when he saw Pepper, innocently walking towards Stark Industries, cellphone glued to her ear in what was no doubt a business call. He didn't know where Happy was, why he hadn't been there when this went down, but he saw the two ex-agents. He watched them grab her. He clenched his fists as the repulsors charged with a whine, wanting to be fired. He watched Pepper gasp and drop the phone as the goons bring her into an alley. Watched the goons grab her phone, gag her and shove a rag that was no doubt saturated in chloroform against her face. He watched her slump in their arms and he watched them tie her up and shove her in a van.

"J.A.R.V.I.S. track that van. Get its location."

"Sir, the van belongs to, and was returned to, S.H.I.E.L.D. there is no way to track its previous locations."

With a scream of despair and rage, Tony finally let the suit fire blasts. He took out every inch of glass in his work room, along with some of the walls. This was the first time he had no real leads to follow. The first time he'd been so hopelessly lost. He couldn't _function_ without Pepper. He needed her.

The Avengers found him later that night, laying in a pile of shattered glass and empty alcohol bottles. His suit had been taken off, Dum-E was desperately trying to sweep around him, and he looked like a mess.

They brought him up to bed.

* * *

"We can't turn him into Hill right now," That was Bruce's voice, he was sure. But it seemed clouded and distorted. As if heard from underwater. "He's not stable enough, and besides, he'll just break out again."

He heard a woman sigh and his heart lifted, if Bruce was talking to a woman it _had_ to be Pepper. Maybe this was all a nightmare. He swam up through the haze, towards that one bright hope. "I know we can't." The light blinked out suddenly and he felt himself falling again. "He's not ready for that. But we _do_ need to inform S.H.I.E.L.D." _Natasha's a cold hearted bitch,_ he thought to himself as he blacked out again.

Sometime later, he was awoken to someone shaking his shoulder. He groaned, hoping that if he sounded pitiful enough, they'd leave him alone. Instead, the shaking only increased. "Tony, _wake up!_"

When he finally did open his eyes, and the world came back into focus, he squinted at Bruce for a second. "What do you want?"

The doctor looked visibly relieved, and Tony didn't want to know why. With Thor in Asgard and Steve missing, they were down to just four members, two of which were S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. Bruce was probably nervous being around them alone, despite being an official Avenger. Being Tony's friend helped to shield him from them.

"You got a package delivered from an unknown sender. You need to open it; it could be a clue to Steve or Pepper's whereabouts."

Tony got up, but only because it meant he might be a step closer to finding Pepper. Frankly, he couldn't give a damn where Steve went and why. He wanted to help the guy, but if Captain America couldn't handle his PTSD and needed to run off fine.

There were other, more pressing matters on his hands besides the disappearance of one of his best friends.

Walking into the living room, Tony ignored the fact that he was only in his boxers and the brief fluttering of _I wonder who undressed me_, and sat in a chair. Clint and Natasha watched him carefully before turning back to the small box. It was only a few inches long and not very thick.

Briefly, Tony wondered why someone would be sending him a package, and why they would assume it had to do with Pepper.

Shrugging it off, he tore off the brown paper surrounding it, revealing a white box. The top of the box had words scrawled on it:

_Greetings, Stark. I'm going to ruin your life, just like you ruined mine. –H._

Glancing up at his friends, who leaned in eagerly to see, he took the top off.

Clint swore under his breath, Natasha's face tightened into an angry frown, and Bruce turned away with a hand over his mouth. Tony just stared in shock. How could anyone do this?

Inside the small box was a human finger. On that finger was the ring Tony had meticulously picked out for Pepper. His world went red with rage.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes:** There is Clintasha in this chapter. Sorry, not sorry.

**Additional Notes: ** My cat just died, so I'm (only a little) sorry this is late.

I've also noticed a general disinterest in this story, though its gotten a ton of favorites each time I upload a chapter, it's still a long way to go (Especially considering I don't plan on this story being terribly long… I've already got everything but the conclusion thought up).

_**Reviews **_are **greatly** appreciated, and keep me motivated to write more.

* * *

"_YOU PROMISED ME SHE'D BE SAFE._"

The words were out of his mouth only seconds before he was out of his chair. Natasha had been prepared though, she was able to keep his hands from her throat and there was a knife pressed to his own. She glared up at him, as he glared at her, his eyes wild with rage and fear. "YOU PROMISED ME!"

Natasha knew this was a dangerous position. The stalemate they were currently in could not be kept up forever, and Tony would no doubt be the first to lunge. He'd get himself killed because he was unable to control his emotions. She didn't blame him; she knew what it was like to lose a loved one like this.

"I've been looking for him!" She wouldn't say she was struggling with him, though anyone who was so fully encompassed by rage was always stronger than someone fighting without it. "I've gotten too many false leads! The trails are all cold!"

"YOU COULDN'T PROTECT HER!" His spittle landed on her face and she tried to force him off. Clint was the only one in the room. Bruce had left to calm down seconds before Tony had flung himself at her.

Tony clawed at her, resorting to the last defence. In the commotion, no one noticed the faint beeping. "You couldn't protect her either!" That increased his rage, though his eyes were bright with unshed tears. "None of us could!"

Something suddenly slammed into Tony, knocking him off of Natasha. It took her a fraction of a second too long to notice that it was the right hand glove of his suit. The charge of his repulsors was her second warning and she leaped out of the way of a blast. The beam grazed her side, burning her and hitting the chair behind her, causing it to explode into small pieces.

Now that she was disentangled from Tony she noticed other pieces of his suit racing to him, attaching to him and building around him. She exchanged a glance with Clint. "Stark! Snap out of it! You're not doing her any favors like this!"

"And _you're _not doing her any favors either!" Tony was beyond negotiation at this point. The helmet of his shield hit his head and the faceplate dropped over his face. "You _promised _me she'd be safe! We _trusted_ you! We trusted you and we trusted S.H.I.E.L.D!"

"If you would let us help now, we'd fix this!"

"_I can't trust you!_" Tony snarled, bringing his hands up and charging his repulsors. "_I never should have trusted you!_"

What happened next happened in a flurry of activity. J.A.R.V.I.S. alerted Tony to an incoming high speed projectile coming from the side, but he didn't react fast enough to deflect the arrow. When it hit it stuck fast in the back of his armor, right where his central processor was. Tony had less than a second to get it off of him before it exploded. He didn't get it off in time, and the arrow exploded.

Clint was perched on the back of the couch like a bird about to take wing. He watched carefully as Tony struggled to pick himself up from under his damaged suit. Without anything but his boxers on underneath, his skin had taken a beating from it. Natasha sat up, dazed but not outwardly hurt.

Tony ripped the helmet off his head and turned to glare at Clint who lazily pulled a tranquilizer out of one of his many pockets. "Now you're _both_ against me?" He growled and Clint shook his head.

"We were _never_ against you." Clint said calmly, making sure to enunciate so the enraged and heartbroken man could hear his words. "_Never_." Tony spat in their direction before falling to his knees, staring at his upturned hands.

Clint slowly stepped off of the couch, coming closer to Tony carefully. The man seemed immobilized on the floor, just staring at his hands. Clint frowned over at Natasha before carefully kneeling down. "Tony?"

The man was shaking slightly, and he looked up at Clint desperately. "What do I do?"

Natasha sighed, coming forward and kneeling next to Clint. "You let us help. The three of us—four, if Banner comes back, we'll find her. And we'll tear that son-of-a-bitch Hammer apart."

Now that his anger had worn off, Tony was utterly defeated. Usually he had a plan—some sort of action he knew to take, and someone to blame for whatever was wrong. This time, he had nothing but a name to go by.

"Hammer isn't inconspicuous, you know," Clint mused, reaching forward and putting his hand on Tony's shoulder. "He used to be famous. There's no way someone doesn't know where he is." He grinned widely. "We'll find him and we'll pop him like the ass-pimple he is."

Tony nodded, slowly coming out of himself. "Yes… Yes we will."

* * *

The clouds rolled in really quickly. He knew that Britain was known for its rain this time of year, but he didn't realize how fast the clouds would move in. He could feel the tea cup in his hand shaking with his nerves. His semi-repaired heart was beating in an abstract staccato.

The walls of the house reminded him of his childhood home, and he welcomed the feeling. Embracing the slight rush of nostalgia, he took in every detail. From the fading wallpaper to the sepia-toned pictures hanging in slightly dusty frames, everything screamed home to him. Even before, when the sunlight had streamed in through the windows it had seemed old to him. He had half thought that she would have changed with the times. It had, after all, been over 70 years.

The woman sitting before him was small and frail. Her skin was pulled tight across an aged face. The veins on her hands stood out against her liver-marked skin. Her smile was a little lopsided, but genuine.

"I never thought I'd see the day," Her voice was rusty, and he pictured it getting little to no use now a days. But it still held the same lyrical tilt it had always had.

Sharon smiled as she bit into a tea biscuit; things were going so well so far. Her aunt had lit up when she'd seen Steve, and she'd let out an excited giggle. She hadn't been able to form any words until the tea was served and they were all sitting down politely.

"Sharon, honey, did you ever think an American would come visit us? And with us on the brink of war! I'm telling you, they should let me enlist."

Sharon and Steve exchanged confused glances. Sharon mumbled an apology before taking her aunts hand. "Auntie Peggy, this is Steve Rogers, remember? Captain America?"

"Oh, yes of course! The boy from the films! Very fancy cinematography, I'm very glad to have him on our side. I can't believe what they do with make up these days—he looks so strong and handsome!"

The small cracks in Steve's heart deepened into fissures. He could feel the panic starting, clawing at his belly and working its way up to his lungs, closing them off. He could feel the start of a panic-induced Asthma attack, and spared a second to wonder where that came from. As far as he knew, he'd been cured of his ailments when he was injected with the serum.

Peggy didn't remember him.

Though he couldn't blame her—she was old now, and she was probably slowly losing her mind, but it still hurt. "I don't know why you're looking at me like that," Peggy continued, patting Sharon's hand. "You should pay attention to our young guest. He's very dashing." She winked and if Steve were in his right mind he would have blushed.

"Aunt Peggy, do you not remember—"

"I remember him alright! He was on the radio just last night." Sharon sighed and turned to Steve. She mouthed, _you'd better go_, and Steve nodded through his haze.

Taking a slow, deep breath he managed to squeeze out an apology and a lie and stood from the table. It took everything inside of him to stumble out the door and into the harsh world that awaited him outside.

Sharon listened as the door closed behind him, watching her aunt closely. Where had this sprout of dementia come from?

Peggy was silent when the door closed before slumping back in her chair. "Sharon," She started, and her voice had dropped several octaves, leaving it old and world-weary. "Don't _ever_ bring him here again."

"So you _did_ remember…" Sharon accused, but Peggy held up a finger.

"I did what I did for his own good. He's living in the past." Peggy stared at the chair that Steve had occupied and sighed heavily. "He's being chased by demons that no one can banish but himself. He doesn't see it yet, but what I did, I did to help him."

Sharon didn't seem convinced. In fact, she was more upset with her aunt than anything else. "Did you have to be so…harsh?" She asked quietly, looking down at her tea cup. "You saw his face—you were the last thing he had."

"That's why I _had_ to be harsh, my dear." Peggy mused, stirring a lump of sugar into her tea. "I know Steve Rogers. That man is haunted, Sharon; the only way he can get over it is to face what is haunting him." She sighed deeply. "I want nothing more than to be able to tell him I remember him, but the path he's on now is only going to lead to heartache. If he can push past this, he'll be alright."

Sharon bit her bottom lip in worry, before sipping her tea to buy herself time to think. She didn't know what her aunt was talking about, but she also didn't know Steve Rogers very well. Maybe Peggy had a point.

* * *

He was in a forest. He didn't know how long he'd been running, but he hadn't stopped. His asthma had subsided somewhat when he stepped out of the house and he took the opportunity to breathe a little. Now, all he had to do was get the reminder out of his head. Of_ course_ Peggy didn't remember him. What was he _thinking_?

God, he was an idiot.

Using a tree to prop himself up, Steve took several deep breaths. Normally, running for the length of time he'd just run wouldn't tire him out, but today was different. He was dripping sweat and completely out of breath. His lungs still felt like shrivelled prunes, and each breath was a struggle. He felt like he was dying.

Which, he mused he wouldn't really mind that much. Anything was better than living as he was now. He was tormented by the ghosts of his past, unable to out run them, unable to escape them. He was trapped, and hopeless.

"Why did they have to find me?" He mumbled to the ground, digging his fingers into the bark of the tree. "Why couldn't they have just left me in that ice block?"

He could have been asleep for _centuries_. No one would have known. No one would have cared. He'd be dead long before they'd uncover him. His heart had to give out sometime, right? Super soldiers didn't live forever, after all.

"If I had died, and they found my dead body, I'd be given a proper funeral. Now…" He trailed off, squeezing his eyes closed, hoping to squeeze out tears that wouldn't come.

Visions of the past bombarded him, almost doubling him over with the intensity of their imagery. He had no purpose in life, now. The war was over. Civilization had moved on. His mind reeled and he pushed himself away from the tree in time to vomit on the grass before it. He managed not to get it on his clothes, and tiredly wiped the sick off his lips when he was done.

What was he _thinking_? Even in the Battle of New York, he wasn't needed like he was back then. The only person who believed in him was Agent Phil Coulson—the man he'd gotten _killed_.

What was he going to _do_? Sure, it hadn't been the first time he'd lost a soldier—"_We are __**not**__ soldiers."_—and it wasn't the first time he'd lost a friend, either. But it was the first time he'd lost someone who so whole heartedly believed in him. Lost someone who so eagerly looked up to him, who almost wiggled with joy when he started speaking.

Coulson had been something more than just a soldier or a friend. Coulson had become something close to family in that short time Steve had known him. Speaking to Phil had almost been like speaking to Bucky, or another one of the Howling Commandos. One of the guys.

God, what he wouldn't give to have Coulson here, now. To tell him it was okay—that his death wasn't his fault. He would never stop beating himself up over that day.

"I'm sorry…" Steve whispered into the still air, clenching his fists on his knees and shaking like a leaf. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you—or anyone. I'm sorry…" He whispered, "that I'm such a failure."

A twig snapped and Steve's head shot up as his heart leaped into his throat. Who had followed him out here? Who had the guts to interrupt his private moment? The man who materialized from the shadows bore the S.H.I.E.L.D. insignia and Steve narrowed his eyes, trying to make him out in the dusk.

"Hi there, Captain."

* * *

Clint flopped onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling as Natasha furiously typed away at the computer. "Anything yet?"

"Nothing that Stark hasn't already uncovered." She grumbled. Working with a tech whiz had its downsides. She growled and slammed in a few commands. "I'll have to get to the streets and start a manual interrogation."

"As if you'd get far. You're also not inconspicuous, Tash." Clint muttered. It was why they were cooped up here instead off of in Bangladesh or someplace—ever since New York they were much too recognizable. There was no way they'd be able to stay under cover for long.

"Well, what else do you suggest? Stark's got everyone whose not looking for Rogers looking for Pepper. We don't have too much to go on here."

"Tasha… you're running on fumes, I doubt you could be any use in an interrogation now," Clint mumbled, propping himself up on his elbows to look at her. "Come to bed, get some sleep, and we'll revaluate the situation tomorrow, alright?"

Natasha let out a snort of a breath and rolled her chair away from the computer. She didn't want to stop, but Clint had a point. "Alright, cool your junk, I'm coming." She mumbled, walking around the bed and pulling off her top.

She hated to admit defeat, but even assassins could only work so much before they collapsed. Clint grinned eagerly at her as she pulled off her pants, sitting on the bed in only her bra and panties. "Stark knows you're helping now, so that's an improvement." He said as he rolled over to be next to her.

She watched him prop himself up next to her and then rolled her eyes slightly. "He's not going to sleep." She stated.

Clint rolled his eyes and propped himself over her, looking down at her with concerned eyes. "Stark can handle it. He's slept more recently than you have."

"Insomnia comes with the job," Natasha said bluntly. Clint sighed and lowered himself onto her, burying his nose in her neck.

"I know, but you need to try to sleep, at least." She'd been getting better lately too. And then all of this had to happen. At least they wouldn't get bored.

"Barton, I've been your partner for so long… yet I still don't get you. You're always so positive. You stay on the upside. You take things as they come—how? How do you do it?"

She could feel Clints lips moving against her neck. She could feel him peppering it with brief kisses, and felt herself reacting to it. He pulled away a little to whisper his answer. "I've already seen everything, Tash. And with everything I've done…" He paused, his mind going to the incident during the Battle, where he was taken over by Loki and killed his fellow agents.

He'd had to take a leave of absence after that, unable to face them until he'd come to terms with it himself. That was on top of his already spotted past. "I've learned to take life's blows as they come. Sure they sting but, you have to move on." He pulled back and looked down at her, his brow furrowing. "Our team needs to learn this. I think I'm the only one with the coping skills needed in our line of work."

Natasha wanted to point out that his coping skills were _shit_, and that he had nightmares at night that he just couldn't control, but she didn't have the heart to bring that up. Clint wasn't better than any of them at coping.

They were a band of unfortunate people with extraordinary abilities, brought together by a cause. And now they were scattered and broken. Weakened as they were, Natasha didn't know if their little band would survive.

As it was, Clint just smiled sadly at her. He could read in her eyes what she wasn't saying with her lips. He took advantage of her silence to mold his own lips to hers, his hands travelling down her body and making sure she was really still there.

With everyone leaving, he wanted to be sure she was still his constant. She was, after all, his life raft in the storm. He couldn't lose her. Not now.

* * *

Tinkering in his lab Tony tried to lose himself in his work. He was trying to find her, but it was a slow progress. Things just weren't falling into place like he was used to. Nothing was right; nothing was working for him. He clenched his jaw and tightened a bolt, snapping his tool in half with the force of it.

"_Damn it,_" he hissed, lowering his hand and pushing away from the table. How long had he been working? How long had he been up? He wasn't sure anymore; didn't know what day it was, or what he was really trying to do right now.

"J.A.R.V.I.S? You up? What has Natasha found?"

"Agent Romanoff has ceased work for the night, sir." Tony felt the muscle in his jaw twitch and he forced himself to relax.

"Alright, alright, that's fine. What are your statuses? Find anything unusual?"

"A few suspicious areas of activity, sir, and I have already sent trusted people to check it out. They were not overly suspicious, so I did not inform you of them."

Tony sighed, coming back to his work bench and picking up a new wrench. "Alright—fine, that's fine. I'll find her. I know I will."

"Sir? Might I suggest getting some sleep? Your heart rate is accelerated and you will do Miss Potts no good if you land yourself in the hospital." J.A.R.V.I.S. quite voice gently chastised. Tony knew he was right and he stood up with a sigh.

"Wake me up in two hours, J.A.R.V.I.S. I can't sleep past that, I have work to do." It was the least he'd give the AI. The least he'd allow himself to _not_ look for Pepper. He couldn't just stop, she was his world. He needed her.

Desperately.

"I'm so sorry, Pepper…" He mumbled as he lay down on the couch in his lab. Pictures of what was happening to her flashed through his head. They wouldn't stop; they wouldn't slow down. Everything was colliding at once. Images of his own torture overlapped with what he imagined was being done to Pepper. He felt physically ill.

"Sir?" J.A.R.V.I.S.' voice startled him out of his thoughts and he hurriedly checked the time. He didn't think he'd been out for more than a few minutes, but he'd been asleep for five hours.

"Damn it, J.A.R.V.I.S, I said two hours!"

"Begging your pardon, sir, I did try to wake you at the two hour mark, but you slept through my alarm. You're needed at the door, sir, there is mail for you to sign for."

With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Tony got up off the couch and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He didn't know what he'd do if he got another package from Hammer. Getting to his feet, he raced up the stairs to the door. His relief at seeing only letters in the man's hand was palpable, and he quickly signed for them.

There must have been some important mail in there, or something. He skimmed through him, his heart dropping when he came across Hammer's aggravated scrawl. Another letter, addressed to him, by his enemy.

There was no doubt in his mind that Hammer was working with someone. There was no way the incompetent fool could do this much damage—he had to be partnered. But the question was, with who?

Was it someone from the Ten Rings? HYDRA? Loki? Though all of those were semi-valid, Tony felt in his gut that they were all wrong.

Swallowing nervously, he opened the letter and read the contents.

_I told you I'm going to ruin your life._

_I'm going to watch you squirm as your world burns around you._

_Without your fiancée, you're helpless. You'll lose your company. You'll lose your mind._

_Meet me at the following location in three days with the deed to your company if you want to see Potts alive again._

_Come alone, or I'll give you her head._

_-H_

Tony should have been shaking in rage, and he knew he should be seeing red. But all he felt was a cold numbness. Was all of this really just for his company? There had to be an ulterior motive. There was no way Hammer would leave it at just this.

For the first time, Tony felt ridiculously hopeless.


End file.
